This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations. This work also includes Pokemon, which belong to the Pokemon Company, and I again claim no ownership of these characters.
I thank both Rowling and the Pokemon Company for the universes they have created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.
There was no way the rest of the holidays could match the unbridled enthusiasm of Christmas Day but the occupants of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place did their absolute best. The twins led the efforts, being loud and boisterous in the way only they could, only cooling down when Mrs Weasley insisted that her husband needed rest.
Sirius, too, was in buoyant mood, clearly loving having so many people in the house again, and most especially enjoying having Harry back. He'd done what Harry had asked of him, he had not attempted once to visit him at Hogwarts despite being tempted on many occasions, and it was clear he was going to make the most of his time with his godson. More than once over the holiday the two of them stayed up late, after even Fred and George had called it a night, occasionally joined by Remus, to talk the night away. Harry would miss these conversations with Sirius. He'd miss the whole thing.
What he was going back to barely bared thinking about.
But eventually that sad day when they were forced to return to Hogwarts, something Harry had thought could never possibly be associated with such feelings of dread, arrived. It was with a heavy heart that Harry said goodbye to Sirius, the extra long hug the man gave him the only outward sign he didn't want Harry to leave, and soon they were escorted to Kings Cross Station and Platform Nine and Three Quarters to board the Hogwarts express.
"Man, what a holiday," Ron said as they settled into a compartment, feeling quite drained. They had so little enthusiasm to return there really wasn't much point in expelling the energy to care.
No one replied to Ron's comment, their silence was agreement enough, and soon the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station, Hermione pulled out a book, and Harry rested his head against the cold window.
And that's how the journey went. Quiet, uninteresting, with nary a word spoken between the three of them. Only the occasional sound of Hermione turning a page in her book, or Ron letting out a surprised snort as he realised he was drifting off, joined the repetitive chug of the wheels on the tracks. Everything looked to be going perfectly dull.
Then the door to their compartment opened.
"Potter."
Harry recognised that voice immediately. Only two people could put so much contempt into saying his name and one of them was waiting at Hogwarts. He turned his head from the wilderness outside and regarded the intruder.
"Malfoy," he replied. His voice was dull, unexcited by an encounter that would usually spark his adrenaline and switch on his mind and body in a buzz. But strangely Draco Malfoy had not been much to worry about over the last few months. Sure, he was responsible for the events that led to Fred and George being kicked off the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, but other than that he had mostly kept to himself. Harry supposed he'd had bigger things to worry about this year. "What do you want?"
Malfoy looked affronted. "My, manners, Potter," he crooned. "Just who on earth raised you? Ah, of course, muggles." If he was expecting Harry to rise to the bait he was terribly mistaken. The Dursleys were objectively terrible as guardians.
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron grumbled. Like Harry he didn't seem to have the energy to be up for it. "No one wants to see your slimy face." Malfoy smirked.
"Well that's unfortunate for you, isn't it, Weasley," he told him. "It just so happens that the, eh, 'slimy faces' you so desperately want to avoid will be making quite the impact this year."
"What are you talking about?" Asked Ron, confused.
"Just a little something called the Inquisitorial Squad," Malfoy said airily, though his eyes gleamed. "A little group that's been formed over Christmas. Haven't you heard of it?" Harry glanced briefly to Ron and Hermione. Neither of them looked any more clued in than he was.
"Alright, I'll bite," he said, a little more force in his voice now. "What's the Inquisitorial Squad?"
"A little group gathered together by Professor Umbridge," Malfoy told him. "Appropriate students, those the Ministry felt might be interested and fitting for the role, were invited to join over the holidays. It's an exclusive group, with the power to keep order at Hogwarts. And of course, they'll report directly to the High Inquisitor."
"And I suppose you're part of this little group," Harry challenged. The smirk on Malfoy's face dropped slightly.
"Please," he sneered. "Like I would debase myself to Umbridge. No, I'm a prefect, I have enough power to be not so desperate as to join the hag's crack disciplinary force." He looked genuinely repulsed by the idea.
"Then why are you here?" Challenged Hermione. "Doing your duty as prefect to inform the student body of a change in command?"
"Hardly," Malfoy sneered. "I just wanted to be the one to tell you, to see the looks on all your faces when you realise what this means. No more sneaking around, Potter. No more stories about Dark Lords and reincarnation in Hogwarts anymore. It's going to be the Ministry way or…" he tailed off with a trademark smirk. "I think you know where I'm going." He turned to leave.
"Watch your back, Potter," he said as he walked out the doorway. "It's not just me you need to be careful of." And he shut the door behind him.
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.
"What on earth was that?" Ron wondered. "Since when did Malfoy come to brag about a group he's not even been invited to."
"You know, I think he was invited," Hermione reasoned. "I doubt Umbridge would think of many students before Malfoy to join this Inquisitorial Squad. No, I think Malfoy is genuine in why he's not accepting."
"So why did he come here?" Said Ron. "Was it really just to brag?"
"I doubt it, Malfoy is never that simple," commented Hermione. "I just wonder… this might seem strange but maybe he was trying to warn us."
"Warn us?" Said Ron, doubtfully.
"Yes, I know, I know it seems stupid," Hermione admitted. "But just from what he said, the way he said it… it feels as though he's trying to make sure we don't walk in blind. It's as though he's trying to give us a fighting chance."
"But why would he do that?" Ron wondered. "Malfoy hates us more than he hates anyone. He'd love to see us get into all kinds of trouble with this Inquisitorial Squad."
"Maybe, I don't know," said Hermione. "But something wasn't right. There is more to this than what Malfoy is saying."
"Bollocks," Ron said. "He was just being a git. He loves to rub our noses, imagine how happy he'll be when Hogwarts falls to Fudge and his cronies."
But Harry agreed with Hermione, something wasn't quite right. Plus, it did feel as though Malfoy was giving a warning. It certainly worked out that way. But why would he? Ron was right, Malfoy hated them, in particular Harry, he surely wasn't out to help them. But if he wasn't then what was his game?
They reached Hogsmeade station with Harry no further along in answering that question and as they piled into one of the Zebstricka pulled carriages, joined by Ernie McMillan of all people, Harry gave it up as something he was never going to figure out. Despite having fought with him for so long Harry didn't know what Malfoy was thinking. He was changing, and Harry was changing too. Part of it was the current state of affairs but part of it was something much simpler; they were both growing up.
"Hey, the DA is still going, isn't it?" Ernie said anxiously, the thought only occurring to him as they approached the great oak front doors of Hogwarts. "I know there might be some difficulties but it's been great, all of us Hufflepuffs enjoy it."
"Yeah, it's still on," Harry murmured, keeping his voice down despite the fact no one would be close enough to hear them. "We'll decide on a date once we know the Quidditch schedules." Ernie nodded and did not bring up the DA again.
"I can't believe we're almost sitting our A. already," he said instead as the four of them were dismounting the carriage. "It seems like yesterday we were all first years about to be sorted."
"Don't remind me," Ron grumbled. Harry found that he'd forgotten too. Schoolwork had been tough, tougher than ever before, but with everything else that was happening Harry had forgotten about the extremely important exams that were going to be held in just a few months time.
"We really need to start thinking about them, the time will fly by," Ernie continued, to Ron's dismay. "I'm already thinking of drawing up a revision timetable."
"Really, McMillan, not even back in the castle and already studying." The provocateur in this situation was so commonly Draco Malfoy that Harry was rather shocked to find a different Slytherin boy in his place - Theodore Nott. Ernie scowled.
"What do you want, Nott?" he retorted. Harry was taken aback. Ernie very rarely got angry. Just what history was there between these two?
Neither of them were about to take the time out to explain.
"Just to embarrass you," Nott answered smugly. "As always." He was far from as brutal or cutting as Malfoy was but he still exuded that same sense of superiority. It was enough to get Ron going, at least.
"Hey, Nott, why don't you shut it," he snapped, stepping forward aggressively. "Trying to copy Malfoy doesn't work for you. You haven't got the brain for it." Concerningly Nott only smiled.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," he said with an almost embarrassing amount of pleasure. "For foul language and insulting a superior."
"What are you talking about?" Ron snapped back. "You're not my superior. You're not even a prefect."
"And even prefects can't take house points, Nott," Ernie McMillan chimed in, looking satisfied to get in a shot at the Slytherin. "You can dream on if you think you are anything but a sad, little loser." But Nott was still smiling and Harry started to get an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Oh, but I am something," Nott sneered. "Far more than a mere prefect." He ran a disparaging look over the four of them. In the group only Harry didn't hold that distinctive honour. "I'm a member of a group far more influential reporting straight to the High Inquisitor herself." He tapped his lapel. A small silver badge in the shape of the letter 'I' glinted in the light pouring out the castle doors.
"What are you talking about?" Ernie blustered but Harry already knew and, judging by their silence, Ron and Hermione did too.
"The Inquisitorial Squad," Nott told them with sickening glee. "Only the best were invited. I see none of you made the cut." He smirked. "Members of the Inquisitorial Squad, such as myself, have the power to give or take house points for anything they deem worthy, and of course report back to the High Inquisitor of any suspicious goings on within the castle." His eyes glinted. "I'd be careful, McMillan. The tide is rolling in." And he turned and left them standing out in the cold, each of them worrying as to what would happen next.
"Bugger," Ron swore. "Guess Malfoy was telling the truth after all."
"Malfoy?" Ernie asked, startled. "What's he got to do with this?"
"He came to our compartment on the train," Harry told him. "He was bragging, basically, about how we all had to watch our backs now because of this new group."
"As though we weren't doing that already," Ron noted. Harry nodded.
"Malfoy was offered a place but he turned it down, apparently," he continued. "Said he wouldn't debase himself working for Umbridge."
"Nott's the type who would," said Ernie. "Lowest of the low. He's been after me since third year when I caught him cheating on the Stats exam."
"Snitch," Ron muttered under his breath. Ernie frowned.
"What I'm worried about isn't so much about the forming of the group, but why now?" Hermione spoke up, interrupting any potential argument between the boys. "Does Umbridge know something? Perhaps she's got wind of the DA."
"If she's heard about the DA," Ernie said, getting panicked, "then it's probably only a matter of time before we get caught. Someone's going to see something, who knows when it'll happen." But Harry was shaking his head.
"She's got no idea about the DA, I'm sure of that," he said, his voice steady and calming the slightly hysterical Hufflepuff. "She knows something is up, she's known since we started. But she hasn't figured it out yet."
"You think she's still in the dark?" Asked Hermione. Harry nodded.
"If she knew what we were doing she'd go after us directly, but she hasn't. Plus, it fits her pattern. When she first heard something was happening she had all those cameras installed," he told her, recalling the morning they'd discovered the unwelcome addition as he looked up at the castle with a hardened stare. "That hasn't worked for her but she's still suspicious. Given she's had all Christmas to try and work out what we're up to it's hardly surprising she's done something like this. More eyes watching our every move, more pressure on people to sell us out to avoid trouble themselves. This isn't the end, not by a long shot. It's just her next move."
As her next move Harry had hope that it would be far from successful. After all, what could the Inquisitorial Squad really do, especially considering that none of them were members of the DA. The secret of their resistance had been held well, despite their rocky start, and now members had a very obvious marker of exactly who they needed to be wary of, the silver 'I's on their chests telling all those around just where their loyalties lie.
Still, their lack of ability to learn anything about the DA was not keeping them totally ineffective. Whilst lacking in brains they did have muscle and the authority with which they could wield indiscriminately. They were Umbridge's enforcers, her arm in the student body, and she'd recruited exactly the sort of people who relished in the process.
Hogwarts barely resembled what it had before, the tiniest of infractions being punished, particularly if your tie was red and gold. Just a couple of days back the student body were already cowering in fear of the wrath of the Inquisitorial Squad and the house points lost by three of the four houses quickly turned the tide completely in Slytherin's favour in the race for the House Cup.
It wore Harry down, sucking the very life out of him such that he didn't even care when he was docked ten points for having his shoelace undone or twenty for having his hair too scruffy. Never had he hated being at Hogwarts more than he did now and there were few places where he could find solace. There was no DA meeting until the second week of term, so many members skittish and worried to return, and Harry only had so many classes with Hagrid where he felt he could relax, a teacher's authority still trumping that of a squad member. With those two options limited Harry indulged in a third, visiting the Hospital Wing only a couple of days into the new term.
"Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey greeted him, businesslike as always. "Can't say I'm surprised to see you here, though I'm hoping you are doing so as a visitor." Harry nodded mutely, moving over to the familiar cushion upon which rested the still unhatched Pokémon egg.
"How is it?" He asked, watching the egg and wondering again just what was waiting inside.
"Good," was Madam Pomfrey's simple reply. "Healthy. But there's been no movement. Just as well, really." Harry frowned. He looked up at the matron.
"Professor Umbridge," Madam Pomfrey stated. Just the name alone filled Harry with dread. "She was here, every day, checking to see if it was ready to hatch. Couldn't understand how I couldn't just tell her when it was due. Didn't seem to realise it wasn't my area."
Good thing the egg hadn't hatched, Harry agreed silently, turning his head back to the egg. It remained whole, looking pretty much exactly as it had when Harry had first seen it. How much longer could the Pokémon stay in there? Harry wished it would remain inside for as long as Umbridge remained in the school.
There was a small cracking sound and Harry blinked.
"Madam Pomfrey," he said nervously, straightening up as he focused in on the egg. Madam Pomfrey, drawn by the tone of his voice, closed in. There was another crack, this one louder.
"Oh my, it's hatching," she said, looking genuinely shocked. "Quick, Chansey, get the door, get the door." The large pink blob hurried forward, closing each of the Hospital Wing's large wooden doors one at a time as quickly as it could.
"Audino, my hatching kit," Madam Pomfrey instructed, approaching the egg from opposite Harry, watching with laser focused eyes as the egg continued to crack. Harry remembered Norbert's egg and how Hagrid seemed to have some warning of when it was hatching, but this wasn't anything like that. It was sudden, so quick that he barely had a moment to process what was happening, and Harry realised with his heart in his mouth that any moment now he was going to see the Pokémon that had been concealed so long from his gaze.
The cracks were getting louder now, spreading across the egg such that it looked like nothing was holding it together except for the Pokémon within. It started to glow, the light building up slowly until it started to obscure the egg itself, becoming blinding for a brief moment before it burst, Harry and Madam Pomfrey having to shield their eyes from the light, and exposed the tiny little Pokémon sitting inside.
It turned out it wasn't a ground type Pokémon after all. Or a flying type for that matter.
It was an Eevee.
"Wow," Harry breathed, looking down on the smallest Pokémon he had ever seen. The tiny little Eevee had its eyes closed, body curled in on its self, but started to blink blearily, as though waking up from a long sleep. Its four legs, each of them beautifully delicate, stretched out to their fullest, tiniest, extent, and the tiny baby Pokémon looked up…
… right at Harry.
"Vee?" It said curiously in the smallest, cutest little voice Harry had ever heard, tilting its head inquisitively to the side. It raised its head slightly into the air, giving a few delicate sniffs as if testing his fragrance.
"An Eevee," Madam Pomfrey said softly, drawing the tiny Pokémon's attention. It looked equally confused by Madam Pomfrey as it had by Harry, though it didn't seem frightened. Harry wondered if it even understood the concept of fright. It was so very, very young.